Foreign Influence

Harvath would have given a year’s salary to have placed drones overhead at the house and the business, or to have satellites retasked to help give him extra sets of eyes, but that wasn’t going to happen, not without setting off a bunch of alarm bells back in D.C. and getting them all in trouble. None of them were supposed to be here. Posse Comitatus notwithstanding, if anyone discovered that the DOD had created and was ru

As they couldn’t sit outside Jarrah’s house, Megan Rhodes suggested they walk right up, ring the doorbell, and see who answered. As soon as the stores opened, she could buy an arrangement of flowers and pretend to be delivering them.

Harvath didn’t like it, and Gretchen Casey immediately shot it down. “Just like London and Amsterdam,” she said, “this guy’s paranoia level is going to be off the charts. An incorrect delivery is going to be highly suspect.”

“Who cares?” replied Rhodes. “The door opens, my Glock goes in his face, everybody wins.”

“Not if he’s got six other guys behind the door armed better than you are,” said Harvath.

“Six guys isn’t even a fair fight. Now, if he had twelve, then maybe…”

“It’s a nice idea, Megs, but keep thinking,” said Casey, who asked Harvath, “What if there was another way we could get close to the house without arousing suspicion?”

“I’d be willing to entertain it. What are you thinking?”

“Do you think we could coopt one of the neighbors?”

Harvath shook his head. “I doubt it. I saw two parked cars with Iraqi flag stickers. Either they both belong to Jarrah, or he and his neighbors share more than just the same zip code.”

“I’m with Scot,” said Cooper. “I think we need to focus on the furniture store.”

Casey nodded. “Okay, I agree. But I still want to see if we can’t figure out some way to gain access to his house.”

“In the meantime,” replied Harvath, “I want to get our surveillance network in place before it’s light. If Jarrah is there, he’s not only going to be expecting surveillance, he’s going to be actively looking for it.”

CHAPTER 65

I don’t know,” said Abdul Rashid as he pushed himself back from the table he was working at. “You tell me. Would you want to already be shooting armor-piercing rounds, or swap out magazines once you finally come to the conclusion that you’ve got a problem? That’s assuming you can remember which one of your mags is the one with the correct rounds to begin with.”

Jarrah looked at the reloading equipment and the piles of ammunition. “Did you get any sleep at all last night?”

“No. And it’s a good thing. You know what I found?” continued Rashid as he rolled his chair over to the adjoining table, picked up a cell phone, and tossed it to the man. “This phone has something wrong with it.”

“We tested all the phones. What’s the problem?”

“You tested to see if they’d vibrate and activate the detonators. I checked their electrical integrity. For some stupid reason, every once in a while this one pulses and gives off an electrical charge.”

“How strong?”

“Strong enough that I’d be worried about it prematurely setting off one of the explosives.”

Marwan walked over and kissed the younger man on the forehead.

“What was that for?” he asked.

Jarrah swept his arm around the room. “For all of this. The improved ammunition. The double-checking of the explosives. All of it. You’ve done a very good job, Shahab. We are almost there.”

“So how do you want me to load the magazines for the shooters?”

The man thought about it for a moment. “I’m apprehensive that we haven’t had an opportunity to test the new ammunition you have fabricated.”

Rashid grabbed one of the rifles and a magazine he had loaded. “Let’s go try it in the parking lot right now.”

The Iraqi laughed at the young man’s joke. “You are as excited as I am, but we must be practical with our orchestration; cautious.”

“So no plinking in the lot?”

“Shahab, I believe that you know what you are doing. I also believe that Allah blessed your journey yesterday and that it adds a layer of security to what we are doing.”

“Good, so we’ll use the new ammo.”

Jarrah waved his hand dismissively. “We’ve already practiced with the other ammo.”

“The stuff you got from that gangbanging gunru

“Weeks ago,” the older man replied.

Rashid looked at him. “You’ve known all along that this was going to be a Mumbai-style attack.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you, Shahab. The mission must always come first. You know that.”

The young man turned away and rolled his chair back to his reloading equipment.

The Iraqi smiled. “You’re tired. You should rest. Tomorrow will be a glorious day, Insha’Allah.”

“I still have work to do. We’re going to need to replace the bad cell phone and you haven’t told me how you want the magazines loaded.”

“Relax. I have an extra cell phone up in the office,” he replied. “And as for the armor-piercing rounds, load two of the thirty-round magazines for each man.”

“That’s all?” Rashid asked.

“Yes, that’s all. They will use the rounds we have tested as their primary ammunition. Your armor-piercing rounds will be a backup if they need them.”

“So you’ve got no problem, in the heat of battle, with them having to remember to transition to armor-piercing when the police show up.”

“Not at all. I have every faith and confidence. These men are well trained. They will remember.”

“It’s your operation.”

“It is our operation, Shahab, and you have contributed many, many good things to it. Tomorrow, the infidels will be shaken. It will be the first blow of many that we will deliver on their own soil. After tomorrow, we will discuss the future and what Sheik Aleem and I have pla

The younger man reached for a piece of paper and a pen. He drew three squares whose tops came together to form a triangle. “These will be the chairs that we duct tape together. Essentially, we’ll be creating three separate blast directions like three claymores.”

“So each of the men will be wearing an explosive vest?”

“Yes, but it won’t be obvious. As with our Shahid, their vests will be hidden by clothing.”

Marwan smiled. “So you will place them in the center of the room and no matter how their colleagues gather around them, they will all be vulnerable?”

“Exactly. And along with duct-taping them to the chairs, they’ll also have hoods and duct tape around their mouths so they can’t speak or gesture.”

“Very good. How will you know the exact moment to detonate?”

“With this,” said Rashid as he reached over and picked up one of the remote camera balls John Vaughan and Paul Davidson had been caught placing in the alley behind the mosque.

The Iraqi brought his hands together in a clap. “This is very good.”

“And it will be an excellent begi

“I’m proud of you, Shahab. You have indeed done a very good job. I just wonder if we should consider using another location.”

“No. Mohammed Nasiri’s apartment is perfect.”

“How are we going to get the police officers in there without drawing attention?”

This time it was Abdul Rashid’s turn to smile. “Do you have faith in Allah, Marwan?”